


Merinthophilia

by mind_and_malady



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, Bottom!Lucifer, Edgeplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3545330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mind_and_malady/pseuds/mind_and_malady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merinthophilia - to be sexually aroused by being bound or tied up</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merinthophilia

**Author's Note:**

> guess who found this trash while sorting through an old flashdrive, uploaded it to google docs to figure out what it was, and decided to spend a few hours editing it.
> 
> this is porn. thats it. thats all it is.

Sam’s not entirely sure where they are. Lucifer just keeps smiling, saying it’s a secret. The enormous French doors behind them are open, leading into a loosely-planned garden overflowing with flowers and fruit trees, a tiny pond burbling away in the center. The view of the world beyond is obscured by tall hedges, and even the garden is slightly hidden by the gauzy white curtains that ripple in the warm breeze.

Of more immediate importance is the bed, king-sized and luxuriously soft, covered in sheets that are way nicer than anything Sam’s ever found on a motel mattress. The sheets and the blankets - each undoubtedly more expensive than Sam’s laptop - are in a crumpled mess at the end of the bed. They’d been kicked there sometime last night, when the air had grown humid and the blankets insufferable, and they haven’t left the bedroom long enough to make putting them back in place worthwhile.

Sam shifts where he’s kneeling between Lucifer’s legs, kitten licking and just slightly nipping at the silky skin between his thighs. He’s been here for a while, mapping the entirety of Lucifer’s body with his hands and mouth. It’s not really eager, not at the moment. Arousal is just a slow warmth in him, though when he looks up at Lucifer, his cock twitches and his cheeks flush.

Lucifer is very tactile in bed. He likes touching Sam, likes stroking his hair and rubbing at his shoulders and giving Sam’s thighs horrendous stubble burn. He likes to kiss scars and freckles and moles, traces them with his tongue and, as Sam’s body can well attest, his teeth. It’s maddening, really, because he likes making Sam come most of all; Sam isn’t even ashamed to say that he’s come so hard he’s blacked out more than once with Lucifer, because he would like to see anyone else try and stand up to archangelic stamina, he really, really would.

Soft leather cuffs etched with sigils are wrapped around Lucifer’s wrists. They’re pulled up over his head, a simple steel chain connecting the D-rings on the cuffs to keep him attached to the headboard. Sam’s grateful for them, grateful that Lucifer had presented them to him and nonchalantly explained how they would keep him bound, grateful that he didn’t have to ask for a little more control.

Lucifer is relaxed, sprawled naked across the sheets, eyes closed and breathing steady, though his lips are swollen from where he’s been biting them. He occasionally arches, body undulating as he rolls his shoulders, flexing every muscle he can before dropping down into a relaxed pose again. His wrists twitch sometimes, fingers curling and uncurling, and his breathing will speed, and Sam will pause whatever it is that he’s doing to make sure that Lucifer is fine, doesn’t want Sam to let him out.

For the first time in nearly half an hour, Sam’s mouth strays to Lucifer’s cock, hard and flushed and leaking against the pale skin of his belly. Lucifer gasps, and Sam feels the muscles of his thighs jump under his hands where he’s pushing them a little further apart. He presses a teasing kiss to the base, licks his way up to the tip and flicks his tongue in the slit.

“ _Sam_ ,” Lucifer groans, hips shifting. This is a familiar response, the restlessness. Lucifer is greedy with his lust, and what he wants he will take, be it driving Sam to insanity or chasing his own release like he’s been trying to for ages now. Sam keeps teasing him, though, brings him close but never close enough. The cuffs keep him from reaching out and keeping Sam exactly where he is, wherever it may be that time, until the pressure can crest and break.

Sam smiles against his cool skin, and then sinks his mouth down on Lucifer’s cock. Lucifer forces himself to freeze while Sam takes as much as he can, moaning and letting his head tilt back to release some of the aching pressure. It takes a minute, but Sam manages to get his throat to relax, and then Lucifer is sliding the rest of the way into his mouth with a strangled noise. Being this grounded in the world by the cuffs is throwing everything into the sharpest, hardest relief, and he’s been left needy and unsatisfied for almost two hours while Sam brings him high and then forces him down again and again. It’s unbearable, and the arousal stabbing his nerves is laced with the razor-edge of pain

Sam starts bobbing his head a little, taking shaky breaths when he can. His cock is growing harder again, rubbing between the sheets and his stomach while his throat works around Lucifer. It’s not so much the act itself as it is the _sounds_ that Lucifer is making, moans and whimpers and high whines of pleasure, pleasure that Sam’s kept him from for hours now. It’s the opposite of the kind of torture Lucifer inflicts on him, and Sam thinks that it’s fitting, to play at this the way they do. They have fast sex sometimes, sure, blowjobs in showers and urgent touches in the dimly lit bathroom of whatever bar they’re in that night, but they both agree that this is much, _much_ better.

Lucifer can feel himself peaking, getting so close to that edge that he can’t help but tilt his hips up into Sam’s mouth, legs pressing hard against his hands and trying to close together. Sam slows down immediately, and Lucifer groans in pained frustration when he pulls away entirely. He’s beautiful, mouth swollen and slick with spit; it’s so _frustrating_ that Sam is keeping him from coming that he can’t think straight, wrapped up in burning lust, and all he wants is to come on Sam’s prettily fucked out face before licking him clean.

The mere thought makes his thighs shake, cock blurting out a thick drop of precome that lands on his belly with the rest. Sam’s eyes follow it, then flick up to meet Lucifer’s eyes, his pupils almost overwhelming the pale blue. Then he leans down, and licks it up, one hand squeezing the base of Lucifer’s cock as Lucifer whimpers pathetically, struggling against the sudden almost-orgasm that he truly wishes Sam would let him have.

This is maddening. Lucifer’s whole world is narrowing down to the ache in his shoulders, the rapid pulse of his own heart and the rush of blood it sends through his body, the ache in his crotch, and _Sam_. Sam, who is watching him, smiling sweetly like they have all the time in the world. The idea of being pulled away from the peak yet again makes him sit up as much as he can, leaning forward towards Sam, desperate for something, _anything_.

Lucifer knows very well that if he wants his freedom, all he has to do is ask. Sam’s eyes flicker away from Lucifer’s face for half a second to the cuffs as the archangel fights for every inch of slack he can get - which is admittedly not much, he can barely get his sternum up off the bed. He’s waiting for the signal, spoken or otherwise, that says he can’t take anymore of being bound, that he can’t bear the teasing any longer.

Lucifer understands that he is here entirely by his own choice, and later, he’s going to wonder what exactly it is about this that he likes. But in the moment, with every input to his senses too sharp and utterly visceral in this borrowed skin, all he can feel is the bite of leather and the ache and Sam’s warm body between his legs; all he wants is to stay right where he is. Possibly forever.

“Please,” he gasps, straining. Sam’s hands reach for the cuffs, concern bleeding into his expression because he can count on one hand the number of times he has heard Lucifer say that with any level of desperation. But Lucifer jerks his head from side to side, the movement hard enough to hurt his neck but very clearly received, Sam’s hand dropping to Lucifer’s shoulder. He’s looming over Lucifer now, but he’s keeping most of his weight off the bound angel’s body, and that’s not what he _wants_. He arches up, contorts to get as much of himself pressed against Sam as possible.

Sam finally, _finally_ seems to get the idea. His hands press down and Lucifer lets himself slump with a sigh as Sam follows him down. One hand moves up to the cuffs, thumb rubbing over the smooth leather, before gathering both of Lucifer’s wrists in his palm and bearing down. Lucifer makes a noise that’s strangled and surprised, but not displeased, so Sam reaches out and rests his palm flat against Lucifer’s chest as he arches, testing Sam’s grip. He tightens his hold to a bruising level, and presses down against the archangel’s sternum.

Lucifer’s eyes roll back a little and he goes boneless under Sam’s hands. Sam smiles as Lucifer’s eyes flutter slightly, panting through his open mouth. “You like this?” he asks, even though the answer is obvious. He’s a little surprised, honestly. Lucifer is very happy being in control of everything all the time, but then again, he is the one who brought Sam the cuffs in the first place.

He expects something that at least tries to be sarcastic, but all Lucifer manages is a drawn out whine. He eases up a little, and Lucifer’s eyes fly fully open. “Yes,” he gasps, gaze black with lust and painfully desperate. “Yes, _yes_ , Sam, please -”

He chokes off when Sam suddenly puts all his weight into his hands. Sam can feel Lucifer’s heart thun _hurts_ dering under his palm, and his own isn’t doing much better, because this is sending a thrill of adrenaline and lust straight through his brain. He’s almost disappointed, really, but he also doesn’t think Lucifer can take much more before he comes all over himself. And they can do this again later, at any rate, if Lucifer decides this new thing is here to stay.

Sam presses his lips to Lucifer’s and the kiss is burning, spreads fire through them both. Sam can taste snow and apples, and underneath of that, he can taste himself, faint traces from breakfast when Lucifer had decided to push Sam against the island and swallow him down. Lucifer tastes cinnamon and earth, with something uniquely Sam that has him whimpering and pressing up into the kiss, pushing against Sam’s hand.

Sam retaliates by digging his nails into the skin of Lucifer’s chest hard enough to toe the line between yes-please-more and no-stop-. Lucifer lets out a broken noise, something helpless and lost, and Sam’s hand moves lightning fast to squeeze the base of his cock again. Lucifer shudders and cries out, before falling limp once more, panting.

“Sam,” he breathes. “Please, Sam - I can’t - can’t keep -”

“Shh,” Sam soothes, squeezing his hands around Lucifer’s wrists and cock just to watch him gasp and stutter out a shattered sound. “Soon, I promise.”

Then he moves away for a moment, reaching around behind him for lube, and Lucifer takes the time to breathe, revels in how light he feels, utterly untethered without Sam’s weight. But then he’s back, kneeling between his legs and casually planting his hand against Lucifer’s sternum and leaning his weight down. Lucifer gasps, then tries to breath deeper, feels the resistance of Sam’s hand, only to lose it all as two fingers slide inside him with ease.

“Just fuck me,” Lucifer demands, groaning, even as he pushes back against the fingers. “I’m fine, just -” he gasps, and then loses his air in another moan as Sam strokes his prostate.

Then the fingers are gone and Sam is pushing his legs up, and Lucifer is _overwhelmed_ by the slickness and the pressure as Sam presses into him in one long slide. Lucifer wraps his legs around Sam’s waist and holds him there, tilts his hips up, panting for breath, eyes closed, head tipped back to expose the long column of his neck. Sam gets a hand in Lucifer’s hair, blond locks sweat damp and tangling in his fingers, while the other holds tightly onto Lucifer’s hip and digs bruises into his skin.

“Greedy,” Sam accuses, but it’s amused and light and breathless, and Lucifer has just enough of his mind left to give a breathy laugh.

He draws out slowly, and then he slams back in, forcing Lucifer up the bed an inch and drawing desperate noises from them both. Sam keeps it up for a few minutes, but they’ve both been walking this line for hours and they aren’t going to last, too desperate and too overwhelmed to keep up the languid pace with which they’d started.

Lucifer comes first. He arches and twists, still fucking back onto Sam’s cock as he sobs and lets go with a soundless scream, hands twining around the chain attached to his cuffs, come streaking his stomach in white. He shudders weakly in aftershocks, barely noticing when Sam stills and comes with a low moan. Eventually Sam pulls out, and Lucifer mutters something unintelligible, but his eyes open a little when Sam reaches up and undoes the cuffs.

Sam rolls over to Lucifer’s right, and Lucifer follows him, curling into his side, neither caring about the mess that is undoubtedly being spread between them. Sam runs gentle fingers through Lucifer’s hair, feels the soft sigh he releases against his collarbone. Lucifer lets a hand stray over Sam’s chest, tracing the tiny scars littered across his skin. Sam’s hand drifts lower, over Lucifer’s shoulders, and he digs his fingers in just a little to draw out a shivery noise.

Lucifer closes his eyes and bites back a whine, scowls up at him instead. “Stop that,” he demands, but the effect is lessened by the lazy smile playing on his mouth.

Sam obliges with a small laugh, hand moving back up to stroke the soft blond hair. Lucifer lets out another contented sigh and closes his eyes, face buried into Sam’s chest, allowing his hand go lax on Sam’s chest.

“Tired?” Sam asks playfully. Lucifer lifts his head with a narrow-eyed look that dares him to keep talking, but Sam only smiles at him. “Where’d your stamina go?”

Lucifer huffs. “Quiet,” he commands, poking him in the side, and now Sam laughs, light and happy, and turns to pull Lucifer close against his chest. One arm wraps around his waist, and Lucifer slings a leg over Sam’s hip while draping an arm over his shoulder to play with the too-long brown hair.

They get wrapped in each other, draped in nothing but loose limbs and dappled sunshine as they doze. The breeze drifts over them and kisses their skin, and birdsong acts as a lullaby that pulls them into a deeper sleep.

 

 


End file.
